


In Full Bloom

by deedreamer



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Cute Kids, Dadam, F/M, Florists, Flowers, Fluff, Language of Flowers, Love at First Sight, Prompt Fic, Single Dad Ben Solo, Small Towns, So is Ben, Valentine's Day Fluff, rey is a goner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 11:42:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17786714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deedreamer/pseuds/deedreamer
Summary: When high school teacher Rey Kanata gets flowers with a cryptic message, she freaks out, thinking she's being hit on by one of her students. On a mission to find out who sent the flowers, she meets Ben Solo -- single dad and owner of the little florist down on Main Street. When the flowers turn out to be a delivery error, Rey knows her job's no longer at risk. But what she doesn't know is that she's about to fall head over heels for the man who keeps sending her flowers day after day because he's a goner for her, too...





	In Full Bloom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Erulisse17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erulisse17/gifts).



> This is my Valentine's prompt fic for The Writing Den's House Dadam "Paint the Town Red" fic exchange. Original prompt:
> 
> "Flowers get delivered to the wrong person. Hilarity ensues. No smut, please!"
> 
> There may not be smut, but there's a whole lot of tooth-rotting sweetness and longing, awkward pauses, and some sexy smoochin'!

 

“Oh, Finn! Perfect timing,” Ben calls. “I have a delivery ready to head out.”

 

Finn cocks a single dark brow at Ben, his shoulders dropping. “Seriously? It’s horrible out today.”

 

Ben winces in sympathy. “Sorry, man. If it makes you feel any better, I forked over extra cash this morning to have Weigert’s Wholesale deliver our rose supply for Thursday so neither of us have to be out by 4:00 AM the rest of this week.”

 

“Hmmph,” Finn grunts in reluctant acknowledgment. “I’ll go get the van.”

 

Ben grins and goes back to finishing the calligraphy he’s working on for the card. _Some days,_ he thinks to himself, _it actually pays off being a florist_. For Ben Solo, today is definitely one of those days.

 

He’d needed a way to acknowledge his daughter’s kindergarten teacher for helping her get through her first reading assessment at school, and a beautiful bouquet at wholesale prices during the crazy Valentine’s week is a perk Ben gladly takes advantage of.

 

Despite his green thumb, Ben never saw himself becoming a florist -- it wasn’t the most masculine of all professions, and for a while Ben really struggled with how other people would see him or the assumptions they’d make. Growing up, his family had been certain he’d go into engineering or architecture. But his ability to design and work with raw materials had shifted into natural media, and before he knew it, Ben had changed his major from mechanical engineering to horticulture after his first semester of college.

 

Now, owning his own business is great. And yes, the pay is marginal -- he rakes in about $70,000 on a good year, but he has the freedom to schedule his work around his little girl, and that benefit is worth its weight in gold.

 

With a practiced, steady hand, Ben finishes the card he’s written for Ms. Kanata and slips it inside the little envelope before carefully threading it through the tongs of the floral pick. The bell over the door jingles, and Ben looks up to find his Assistant Manager and oft-delivery person hurrying in from the cold, New England bluster beyond the storefront.

 

“All right, all right,” Finn announces as he busts through the shop door, stomping his boots on the entryway floor mat before coming in further to pick up the bouquet. “Where the hell am I going in this bloody blizzard?”

 

A tiny gasp sounds from the stairway, quickly followed by a blur in a red coat and purple woolen beret rushing at Finn and nearly tackling him to the ground.

 

“Swears, Uncle Finn! You have to put a quarter in the jar!”

 

Grinning, Finn pats the top of his pseudo-niece’s head as she tips her chin to give him a very serious, very disappointed blue-eyed glare.

 

“I’m sorry, Peanut. You’re right. I’ll put my quarter in when I get back from running out into the tundra.”

 

The little girl smiles, easily appeased, and dashes behind the service counter to hoist herself up on her stool. Even raised off the ground, she only reaches her father’s hips.

 

“Can Uncle Finn drop me off at school today, Daddy?” she asks, tilting her head to lean against Ben’s jean-clad thigh.

 

Ben watches as his hand -- bigger than his whole baby’s face -- moves of its own volition toward Andromeda’s head full of black curls. He winds one large finger around a tendril and gives it a gentle tug before watching the shiny coil spring back. Staring into her disarming, crystal blue eyes, Ben nods.

 

“Sure,” he says before turning to address Finn. “You have to go to the school to make the delivery anyway, so might as well.”

 

“Thanks, Daddy!” Andromeda chirps, hopping down off the step-stool Ben keeps at the service counter just for her. She rushes over to get her backpack and lunch bag where Ben had left them at the bottom of the stairs that lead down from their apartment. She sits on the floor and tugs on her snow boots before loading herself up with her belongings, her rainbow unicorn backpack nearly as tall as she is.

 

She skips over to Ben and tugs on the hem of his sweater; it’s his daughter’s signal for him to come down to her level for as long as he can remember. Obeying her request, Ben lowers himself to one knee and raises his brows in silent question.

 

“Bye, Daddy, have a great day,” she says, leaning forward to plant a wet kiss on his lips. She grins and turns on her heels to march toward Finn before calling over her shoulder, the same as she’s done every day since preschool in an attempt to mimic her father’s first farewell to her when she was three. “Make good choices!”

 

Ben huffs a laugh, her goodbye routine never failing to warm his heart and make him wonder just how an antisocial nerd like himself managed to create a vivacious, hilarious little girl like Andie.

 

“You too, Sweetpea!” he calls back, giving her a little wave as she clasps Finn’s hand in hers.

 

“Watch your step on the sidewalk, Uncle Finn, it gets slippery out there,” Ben overhears Andie report gravely.

 

“You’re telling me!” Finn replies with a laugh as the bell clinks overhead and the glass door slips shut behind them.

 

Ben watches the two head out into the snowy walk and hop into the dark blue delivery van, Andie’s spare booster strapped into the single captain’s chair in the back of the van for this very purpose.  

 

With Finn, he knows his girl is in good hands. Ben turns back to the counter and opens his laptop, ready to tackle the day’s massive list of pre-Valentine orders before Finn returns, sure to be complaining about having to go back out in the snow for his midday deliveries.

 

* * *

 

Rey Kanata sinks down behind her desk, seriously questioning her life choices as the last two students rowdily leave her classroom. The boys, both linebackers on the football team, have knocked two of the desks askew in their rush to get out of her physics class like they were exiting a burning building.

 

Everyone keeps telling her it’ll get better once her first year of teaching is behind her, but Rey’s beginning to doubt she’ll ever master anything other than shooting death glares at the disruptive teens constantly dealing with a bad case of senioritis despite the three months left until graduation.

 

She slumps over, balancing her chin on her propped hand, and sighs. Maybe she should go back for a second post-grad degree and just get a job in industry and forget about this teaching stint.

 

The shrill ringing of her phone startles her out of her self-doubt and Rey shoots up to grab the receiver where it’s mounted against the classroom wall.

 

“Yes?” she answers warily, certain the front office is calling to tell her yet another parent is asking to set up a meeting to discuss their child’s poor grades.

 

“Hello, Rey, it’s Shelly. You have a delivery here, so be sure you swing by the front office before you head out today.”

 

“I do?” Rey asks, blinking her surprise. “What is it?”

 

The other woman pauses for a moment, then replies slyly, “You’ll just have to come here and see.”

 

Furrowing her brows, Rey says she will, grateful for the mystery delivery which gives her enough pep in her step to finish entering some grades before packing up for the day.

 

As she breezes through the front office, she taps her blunt fingernails on the counter and asks with a shy smile where her delivery box is.

 

“Oh, it’s not a box at all,” the elderly secretary says, shooting a coy grin up at Rey before pointing a long red fingernail toward the end of the countertop, “it’s _that_.”

 

Rey glances over her shoulder to see the most beautiful bouquet of dark pink roses and baby blue hydrangea she’s ever seen. It’s huge. Frankly, she isn’t sure how she’ll fit it in her little hatchback and get the flowers home.

 

Wide-eyed, Rey slowly walks to the end of the counter, searching for the little white envelope tucked in gingerly among the lush greenery. Her hand hesitates mid-air, realizing she has absolutely no idea who these could be from and that she really doesn’t want an audience when she finds out. She’s already blushing from her neck to her forehead, a fine sheen of sweat beading on her upper lip as her heart thrums in a strange state of excited, unexpected anxiety -- she doesn’t need to add any fuel to her already flaming face.

 

She clears her throat, wrapping her damp palms around the cardboard base surrounding the bulb of the giant glass vase before pulling away to fish her car keys out from her her purse. Rethinking her arrangement, Rey slides the crossbody strap of her handbag over her shoulder, then shifts the handles of her tote bag into the crook of her elbow, praying she’ll make it to the car carrying everything without slipping in the snow-covered lot.

 

“You sure you got that?” Shelly asks, an eyebrow raised in amused curiosity as she watches Rey prepare for what seems like an Olympic feat.

 

“I…,” Rey pauses, heaving a heavy sigh and tries again. “I think so?” she says with a little self-deprecating laugh. “I mean, I guess we’ll find out.”

 

“Well, at least let me get the door for you,” Shelly replies with a smile. “And you be careful out there!” the older woman says with a motherly cluck of her tongue. “Your boyfriend wouldn’t be very happy if you got broken bones for Valentine’s Day, now would he?”

 

Rey’s blush turns nearly crimson. “Oh, there’s no boyfriend, Shelly,” she murmurs as she hoists the bouquet off the counter and starts a careful march, her vision partially skewed by the giant blooms bobbing in front of her face.

 

“Hmm,” the woman hums disbelievingly as Rey passes through the security vestibule and out the school’s double doors. “You drive safely, now, Rey. See you tomorrow!”

 

“You too!” Rey calls behind her as she walks slowly, calculated and deliberate, toward her little hatchback, testing her footing with every step.

 

With the car unlocked and the flowers successfully stowed in the backseat, buckled in with the seatbelt like a passenger, Rey slides into the driver’s seat and turns the ignition. She shivers as a blast of unheated air shoots out through the vents. Rubbing her mitten-covered hands together, she exhales against her frozen fingertips as she fiddles with the heat vents. It’s a waste, since Rey well knows she lives so close to the school she’ll be home before the car warms up, anyway.

 

Less than five minutes later, Rey pulls into her one-car garage, thankful to have it during these bitter New England winters. She still shivers as she steps out of the car and drops her purse and tote inside the entryway of her kitchen before turning back to retrieve the monster bouquet of flowers. It may have been seventeen years since she’d left the desert to come live with Maz, but Rey’s blood is still as thin as ever, and she’s quite certain she’ll never really adjust to the cold the way natives do.

 

Finally safe inside, her socked feet planted firmly in front of the heat vent on the kitchen floor, Rey reaches for the tiny white envelope tucked inside the greenery once more. Biting her bottom lip, she slides out the little card and reads the beautiful handwritten note in calligraphy.

 

_Coming to school every day_

_is great because I get to see_

_your smiling face. You’re very_

_special._

 

_With Love,_

_Your Secret Admirer_

 

Rey’s heart skips a beat, then she feels her stomach sink down somewhere in the vicinity of her feet.

 

This is not good. Not good at all.

 

She teaches juniors and seniors in high school, and not the highest of honors students, either. Which means her students are mostly seventeen to nineteen year olds, and honestly, they’re primarily boys. Which means her so-called Secret Admirer is likely one of her kids executing a very poorly thought out teenage crush or one (or more) of them punking the hell out of her.

 

Either way is unacceptable.

 

Rey… can’t breathe.

 

She yanks one of her kitchen chairs out and nearly collapses onto it, her career and possibly her life flashing before her eyes.

 

She can already see the headlines gracing the front cover of the _Camden Herald_ , proclaiming “Local Teacher Flirts With Student, Jail Time” despite the fact that she’d never done such a thing. Still, she knows the horror stories out there, knows the way the public would make assumptions if something like this ever got out and, suddenly, Rey sinks her heavy head into her hands, feeling guilty until proven innocent instead of the other way around.

 

“Shit,” she hisses. “So much for enjoying these pretty flowers,” Rey grumbles into her sweaty palms.

 

Resigned, she lifts her head and reaches for her cell phone, knowing there’s only one person she can trust to tell about the epic disaster her life has become in the last hour. After the second ring, the wizened voice of her adoptive mother answers.

 

“Hey, Ma,” Rey says on a sigh before taking in a deep breath, ready to spill her guts and get some guidance. After all, Maz Kanata has spent thirty years teaching in this small Maine town; if anyone knows how to handle this unexpected potential debacle, it’s her. “I think I might have a problem…”

 

* * *

 

 

Valentine’s Day is a Florist’s Black Friday. Ben has just spent the better part of twenty hours on his feet, making ordered arrangements in time for what feels like round-the-clock deliveries and keeping the cooler stocked with spur-of-the moment bouquets for those procrastinators that keep his welcome bell jingling throughout the day. With an hour left until closing and the after-work rush finally past, Ben sits down on the stool behind the service counter with a grimace.

 

“You gettin’ too old for this, or what?” Finn asks as he comes in from the back room, evidently back from his last delivery of the day and having parked the van in the alley.

 

“Yep,” Ben replies, devoid of emotion, simply drained. And hungry.

 

Speaking of hungry… “Shit!” he curses, shooting up from his short-lived respite on the stool and dashing toward the stairs. “I forgot to make dinner for Andie, she’s probably starving up there!” The overhead bell jingles and Ben stops mid-motion, first foot on the bottom step, his gaze sinking down as his shoulders sag.

 

_Jesus Christ, I can’t take one more asshole dude who needs emergency flowers because he couldn’t plan ahead._

 

“Can we help you?” he hears Finn ask.

 

Ben silently sends up thanks for Finn, knowing he’ll be able to take care of whoever has just walked in and Ben can take care of Andie.

 

“Um, I’m honestly not sure.”

 

It’s like something out a dream, her voice. Or a movie. It will take hours of ruminating upon it instead of sleeping later for Ben to figure out what it is about the voice -- not a man’s, but a woman’s soft, slightly accented, timid voice -- that stops him in his tracks. Slowly, Ben turns to see a lithe woman pull a snowy knit cap from the top of her soft curling brown hair. Even from across the room, he can see her big, round eyes and the smattering of freckles across her nose and blushing cheeks.

 

Somehow, Ben’s legs are moving, propelling him forward despite his brain’s inability to focus on anything but the pink staining her cheeks and the way she tugs at her purple mittens and shoves them into her wool coat pocket. She sinks her front teeth into the rosy flesh of her bottom lip. Ben finds himself standing at the counter, directly across from the woman, his dark eyes locked on her wide hazel ones and not a single syllable having yet slipped through his lips.

 

“Um,” Finn says beneath his breath, walking backward toward the steps leading up to the apartment, “I’ll just let you take this one, old man, and I’ll take care of Peanut.” With a gentle smile, he directs his next words toward the pretty shopper. “He’ll be able to take care of you, I’m sure.”

 

Ben’s head whips over his left shoulder in time to catch the mischievous glimmer in Finn’s eyes before shooting his friend a death-glare for the rude double entendre he’s sincerely hoping the beautiful woman across from him didn’t pick up on.

 

When he turns his attention back to the woman, he sees her eyes widen further as she presses her fingertips against her lips in a self-conscious gesture.

 

_She picked up on it, all right._

 

Ben clears his throat. “Do you need something for Valentine’s Day? I don’t have much left,” he begins, sliding his glasses up the bridge of his nose and glancing at the cooler with its three remaining bouquets of roses, “but I have some other nice things I could put together for you if you don’t mind waiting a few minutes.”

 

_God, why was he still talking?_

 

The woman smiles. Stepping closer, she looks down at her hands resting against the top of the counter, wrinkling her nose.  “Actually,” she starts before looking up at him shyly, “I have kind of a strange request.”

 

Working his jaw, Ben watches her in silence, completely enraptured by her even as she has done absolutely nothing extraordinary. It’s just _her_ … something about her draws him like a moth toward flame. Finally, he replies. “Okay.”

 

“You see,” she explains, her expression suddenly very serious, “yesterday at work I received a bouquet that came from here and--”

 

“Were they not acceptable?” Ben interrupts, a deep crease forming between his brows.

 

She releases a surprised huff, furrowing her brows as she gives him a half smile. “No, actually, they were quite lovely.”

 

“Good,” Ben says with a nod, swallowing thickly, “that’s good.”

 

“Yes, and the card said they were from a ‘secret admirer’ and I know you probably can’t give any personal information away, but you see, I’m a high school teacher and I’m absolutely sure none of my students should be sending me flowers signed ‘with love’ and I just kind of, um, need to know if there’s anything you can tell me about who ordered them?” The words seem to tumble from her lips, her eyes dampening with an emotion Ben can only describe as nervous desperation.

 

Kind of like how he’s feeling, right in that very moment, as he rewinds the last exhaustive twenty-four hours to the only delivery that went to the school yesterday -- one he’d sent himself -- intended for his daughter’s kind and grandmotherly kindergarten teacher.

 

Definitely _not_ the stunning woman standing before him. How the hell could this have happened? He’s going to kill Finn.

 

“Uh,” Ben stalls, shifting his weight on his feet and sliding his hands in his jeans pockets, suddenly not sure what to do with his own overly large limbs. “You’re right,” he begins, “I can’t share too much with you, but…” he swallows, glancing at her with a lifted brow, “maybe you can start with your name and I can try to see if there’s anything I can do to help you out?”

 

Ben _needs_ to know her name. Because this woman is definitely _not_ the Ms. Kanata he met during kindergarten orientation.

 

“Yes,” the woman replies, nodding her agreement eagerly, “yes, thank you.” She licks her lips before bringing her fingertips back toward her mouth, then folds her hands across her waist protectively. “My name’s Rey. Rey Kanata.”

 

The wheels start turning and in an instant Ben knows exactly how the error occurred. He also knows that if he clears up his innocent mistake at not having realized there could possibly be more than one Ms. Kanata in their tiny school district, this woman… this Rey… will never have cause to see or talk to him again, and he isn’t sure he can live with himself if it comes to that.

 

But, Ben doesn’t have much of a choice. Not in a small town like Camden, and not when the two Ms. Kanatas are likely relatives… he’ll have to come clean and admit his mistake.

 

“I see,” he announces quietly, giving Rey a sheepish smile.

 

“You do?” she asks, her eyes widening again, her hands coming to rest eagerly on the counter’s edge.

 

With a nod, Ben continues. “I do,” he says, pulling his hands from his pockets and gesturing animatedly as he speaks. “It was my mistake. The flowers were meant to be a thank you surprise for my daughter’s kindergarten teacher --”

 

“Maz!” Rey interjects, her smile growing interminably larger as pure relief appears to flood her expression.

 

“-- _Maz_ Kanata,” Ben finishes.

 

“Oh, thank you, sweet baby Jesus,” Rey murmurs quietly, her voice deep and thick with emotion, as her chin sags to her sternum.

 

Ben _really_ wants to hear that voice again. Preferably directed to the shell of his ear, in private. But that isn’t likely. Not from a beautiful young woman like her, and not delivered to a thirty-something single father like him.

 

Clearing his throat again, Ben darts his eyes over to the register, then the cooler, then his booted feet. Anything to avoid having her see the burn he feels blooming on his cheeks at the thoughts that have just flitted through his hind-brain.

 

“I apologize for the confusion and for any inconvenience,” he mumbles, reaching for one of the bouquets in the cooler. “Here, please,” he says, chancing a glance at her as he holds the vase of lavender roses aloft, “take this as our sincere apology, and of course I’ll put together something new for the _other_ Ms. Kenata for delivery first-thing tomorrow.”

 

Across from him, it isn’t just Rey’s cheeks that flush -- her whole upper body seems to pinken as she stands wide-eyed, her gaze flicking between his ginormous hand covering almost the entire vase and his unblinking eyes. “Oh, that’s not,” she pauses, shaking her head and huffing out a little laugh, “really, that’s not necessary.”

 

“Please,” Ben says, the single word hushed, hanging between them like a lover’s secret.

 

Rey’s teeth bite down into the pillow of her lower lip once more before she gives him a tiny, barely perceptible nod. “All right,” she replies. “Thank you.” She takes the proffered flowers from him, their fingertips touching in the process, sending an electric jolt down Ben’s forearm.

 

He works his jaw, willing himself not to beg this woman he’s just laid eyes on not five minutes before from turning and walking out of his shop. Finally, he manages a quiet, “You’re welcome.”

 

“Um,” she says, giving him a shy smile. “I hope... uh... you and your wife can enjoy the rest of Valentine’s Day, now that the craziness is over.”

 

Ben’s eyes flick to her face as he inhales a quick breath of air, his throat hitching. Was she… could she be?

 

“I’m not married,” he states bluntly, as if he can’t set the record straight fast enough.

 

“Oh?” Rey asks, the dark arches of her brows rising. “I thought…”

 

“It’s just my daughter and me,” Ben clarifies, folding his lips in an approximation of a wan smile.

 

_Yep, it’s just been me and my girl since three days after she was born_ , he thinks. _Not  at all the way I thought things would turn out._

 

But that’s a sad story for another day, one he rarely shares because he can’t stand the pitying looks he gets when people learn his former fiancee checked herself out of the hospital while recovering from an emergency c-section and has never been seen or heard from again.  

 

“Oh,” Rey repeats, her gaze softening, her lips twitching into a smile as her flush deepens. “Well, I hope you have a good night, then…?”

 

Ben blinks at her, waiting for her to finish her sentence until he realizes belatedly she is prompting him for his name. “Ben!” he squawks with entirely too much enthusiasm before clearing his throat and trying again. “Ben Solo.”

 

“Solo…” Rey repeats, her smile growing into a grin. “... as in ‘Soliloquy?’” she asks, tilting her head toward the entrance door where the shop’s name is printed in bold black lettering.

 

Shoving his hands back in his pockets, Ben rocks on his feet, ducking his chin awkwardly. “Yep.”

 

“Well, you have a lovely shop, Ben Solo, and lovely flowers. I’ll be sure to come here next time I…” Rey trails off, laughing with a self-deprecating grin. “Oh, who am I kidding? I can’t remember the last time I bought or received flowers, honestly!”

 

Ben blinks at her statement, which can’t possibly be right. Not for someone as clearly luminescent as her… this Rey… a veritable ray of light on this cold February night.

 

_That’s a shame._

 

Rey stares at him dumbly for a moment, and that’s when Ben realizes he’s just said the words out loud. Quietly, but aloud nevertheless.

 

“Anyhoodle,” she says cheerfully, clearly trying to avoid any awkwardness, “I’ve an early day tomorrow. Lovely meeting you, Ben, and thank you _so_ much for the help. And the flowers.” She shoots him a grin again, and Ben feels that smile in his very soul as she turns toward the door. “Truly,” she calls over her shoulder, her smile like the sun, “I’m _so_ relieved.”

 

“Anytime,” Ben says softly with a dip of his chin.

 

And he means it.

 

* * *

 

 

The bell rings, and if Rey thought high schoolers knew how to haul themselves up and out of last period at the end of a day, nothing ever compares to the speed with which they vacate the premises on a Friday afternoon. A lone sheet of looseleaf paper drifts downward in a rocking motion, carried by a waft of air left in the last linebacker’s wake as the whole class seemed to engage in a harried, mass exodus.

 

She’s thinking it’s a shame they left in such a hurry, because there’s clearly a real-life example of the relationship between forces and motion that Rey is certain her physics students could benefit from observing, but with the weekend beckoning them like a siren’s call, she knows it’s a lost cause.

 

“Have a nice weekend,” Rey says to no one but herself. The room is empty, and she’s tired. Trying to teach seniors who should’ve learned the basics of Newton’s laws back in middle school can be frustratingly exhausting.

 

But, on the bright side, Rey no longer has to have a panic attack about potentially getting fired for having an inappropriate relationship with a student, despite the fact that she’s done no such thing. In the realm of inappropriateness, though, Rey feels _slightly_ guilty for having spent a disproportionate amount of brain cells thinking about the florist she met the night before.

 

He was… well, the first thing that comes to mind is _huge_. She remembers the way his hand covered almost the entire vase as he offered her the bouquet of sweet-smelling roses. She also remembers his dark eyes, plush raspberry colored lips, and the way his glasses kept slipping down the slope of his long nose. She recalls his pale skin and the way it flushed a couple times while they spoke, and she can’t help but wonder if maybe he was as affected by her as she was by him.

 

Her classroom phone comes to life with a shrill ring, and once again Rey jumps from her desk, startled and surprised to be getting a call twice in three days. This time, it’s gotta be a parent she thinks as she lifts the receiver with dread.

 

“This is Rey,” she says cheerily, trying to dispel the negativity she’s sure she’s about to face.

 

“Hi Rey, it’s Shelly. You have another delivery today,” the woman says, and Rey can absolutely with one hundred percent certainty hear the cajoling tone in her sing-song voice.

 

She smiles and rolls her eyes. “Very funny,” she mutters, about to say goodbye and hang up when she hears Shelly cackle over the line.

 

“And you said no boyfriend, ha!” Shelly says jovially. “See you in a few, Miss Popularity.”

 

The line goes dead and Rey dubiously checks her wall calendar to make sure it’s not Groundhog Day. She shakes her head and starts packing her things, wondering what on earth could be waiting for her this time.

 

When she walks into the office, the answer is clear. In the same place as Wednesday, taking up the same obscene amount of countertop, is another giant bouquet -- this one filled with multi-colored tulips. Rey releases a long breath as she walks over to the flowers in a near daze. There must be fifty blooms tucked in there -- pinks, yellows, oranges, purples… it’s spring amidst the claws of winter and it’s perfect. Because unbeknownst to Ben Solo, tulips are Rey’s absolute favorite flower.

 

Slowly, she reaches for the card and slides it into the pocket of her coat, loathe to open it in the office since now she’s all the wiser as to whom the flowers are from. There’s no doubt in her mind when she spies her name in flowing calligraphy on the front of the envelope.

 

“Gonna be able to get those out to your car, Rey?” Shelly asks, cocking an appraising drawn-on brow at Rey.

 

“Oh, yes,” Rey says, trying to mute her grin. “I think I can manage.”

 

And she does. She manages to get to her car carrying all of her things without slipping. She manages to key the ignition and strip off her mittens so she can fish out the envelope from her pocket. She manages to slide the card out with a slightly trembling hand and read his hand-written note:

 

_A little something to brighten_

_Even the darkest nights…_

_The memory of your smile_

_is enough for me._

 

_You deserve flowers. Lots of them._

 

_-Ben_

 

Rey’s face blooms into a beatific smile. Then, Rey manages to calm her kick-drum heart enough to get home safely only to be faced with the task of rearranging the two bouquets from the other day to various parts of her little house to make room for the tulips in a place of honor on her coffee table. She manages to slip out of her clothes and take a long, hot bath, a glass of Pinot Grigio balanced on the edge of her tub as she closes her eyes and pictures a dark gaze peering at her from behind glasses, pillow-soft berry lips murmuring _that’s a shame_ in a deep, dulcet tone that leaves her skin prickling with gooseflesh despite the hot water of the tub.

 

Yes, Rey manages fantasizing one scene after another with Ben Solo just fine.

 

* * *

 

 

Ben isn’t surprised when he doesn’t hear anything from Rey after Thursday’s tulip delivery. It’s not like they’re friends, or as if they exchanged numbers, and he certainly wouldn’t expect her to just drive over to the shop every time she has the urge to talk to him.

 

And who says she even has the urge? Beyond a polite thank you for the flowers, the woman doesn’t owe him anything. In fact, she might think he’s a complete creep.

 

“Only one way to find out,” he murmurs to himself as he finishes writing today’s missive to Rey, which Finn will be taking out on his Saturday afternoon deliveries shortly.

 

A small human appears beside him, dark curls at his hip as Andie steps onto the stool. “Who you talking to, Daddy?” she asks, peering up at him with her wide, blue eyes.

 

“Just myself, I suppose,” he replies, giving his girl a little smile. “You know, like all the crazy daddies do. It’s the cool thing, I hear.”

 

“Dad- _deeee_ ,” she sighs and rolls her eyes dramatically, but can’t help the grin on her lips. “Is it for a lady?”

 

Ben stops and looks down at his daughter before bending lower to get into her line of sight. He pushes his glasses back up and furrows his brow at her in curiosity. “Why do you ask that, Sweetpea?”

 

“‘Cause those flowers are gardenias, and you told me gardenias mean secret love,” she says, one hand on her hip, reciting the words as a matter of fact. Which, of course they are, because Ben _did_ once tell her that and, well, Andromeda is wicked smart.

 

“Hmm,” Ben says, huffing a not-very surprised laugh, “that’s true. And yes, these are for a lady. A very nice, very smart, very pretty lady. I thought these might brighten her day.” He pauses and cocks his head at Andie, gazing at her thoughtfully. “What do you think?”

 

“Oh, _yes_ !” she beams. “And they smell so yummy I’m _sure_ she’ll _love_ them!”

 

His daughter is nothing if not slightly dramatic, and Ben laughs again at her emphatic delivery. “I hope so.”

 

Ben tucks the card in the little envelope and takes up his felt calligraphy pen to write Rey’s name on the outside. He finishes with a little flourish just as Finn comes in and tosses his sandwich wrapper in the trash bin behind the service counter.

 

“All right, where’m I going?” he speaks around his last mouthful of lunch. Ben shoves an unopened can of Coke toward his friend along with the printed list of deliveries. Finn pops the tab of the soda and take a long sip before saying thanks, then ruffles Andie’s hair. “Bye, Peanut!” he calls over his shoulder as he grabs the gardenias, the last of the bouquets, and heads out to the van.

 

“Bye, Uncle Finn!” Andie yells with a wave. She turns to her father and says, with a very grave face, “Daddy. It’s just you and me now. Are you ready for a Candyland rematch?”

 

Ben glances at the clock, knowing his Saturday traffic has died down. The shop will be open for another two hours, but he doesn’t expect more than a trickle of customers, mostly via phone or online orders. “I think the real question is, are _you_?”

 

“Yes!” she screeches, all giggles as she dashes over to pull the board game from the closet.

 

They play for about forty five minutes, sharing a bag of pretzels. Ben’s stuck on a licorice space for what feels like the seventeenth time when the shop’s door bell jingles. He glances up from the little side table they’re using to play to see Rey, standing in the doorway, her form outlined by the pale, late afternoon sun streaming in through the storefront glass.

 

“Oh,” Ben says, blinking. “Hello.”

 

Rey smiles and gives him a shy wave. She doesn’t move from her spot at the front of the shop. “Hi, Ben.”

 

“Did you…” he pauses and clears his throat, standing and giving Andie a little smile before turning back to the woman across the room, “did you need some… flowers?”

 

Rey’s laugh is like a summer wind, it’s soft and uplifting and refreshes him, makes him think for a moment anything is possible.

 

“No,” she says, “I think I have enough of those for now. Especially after today… But I wanted to, um, say thank you?” She takes a step further into the shop, her eyes flitting between Ben and Andie where she sits beside him. “Are you… you must be Andromeda?” she asks, raising her brows and smiling kindly at the dark-haired little girl.

 

“Yes!” she answers, blue-eyes wide and a smile even wider as she stares surprisingly at the stranger who seems to know who she is. “But you can call me Andie!” Ben feels a tug on the hem of his black sweater and he stoops down in response automatically, but his eyes stay locked on Rey. “Daddy, is _that_ the pretty lady?”

 

At five, his daughter hasn’t yet mastered the art of whispering, and Ben feels flame travel along his cheekbones as he’s certain Rey heard every word.

 

He clears his throat and darts his eyes down to Andie. He can’t help but smile when he sees his little girl’s sweet, innocent face. Ben’s a firm believer that honesty is the best policy, so he takes a breath and tries to settle the pounding blood in his veins as he turns his attention back to Rey, who’s watching them intently with flushed cheeks of her own.

 

“Yes, that’s... the one,” he replies.

 

The words are spoken in answer to his daughter’s question, but Ben can’t tear his eyes away from the woman who’s now stepped closer to the shop’s counter, the two of them like magnets drawn to one another.

 

* * *

 

 

Rey knew Ben had a little girl, but walking into the shop to see him sitting at the small table, his large body folded like origami to sit beside his daughter with a blue gingerbread board game piece in his hand is too much for her. In fact, she feels faint at the sight of it, and wonders idly if perhaps the clenching she feels in her abdomen could really be her ovaries exploding.

 

_Jesus, how can this man be single?_

 

She blinks and says a wobbly hello, and she thinks Ben asks her if she needs more flowers. Rey wants to dissolve into hysterical laughter at the absurdity of his question; she’s had more flower deliveries over the last four days than she’s had in her whole _life_. Her attention is drawn to the little girl beside him, looking at her with wide blue saucers for eyes.

 

“Are you… you must be Andromeda?”

 

The girl beams at her, and Rey can’t help but stare back in fascination at the little girl whose dark curls bounce as she excitedly shifts onto her knees on her chair. “Yes! But you can call me Andie!” Rey watches as the girl tugs on her father’s sweater. In some practiced and secret code, he lowers his body so his head is right beside hers, but Rey’s pulse throbs in her throat because Ben doesn’t take his eyes off of her. She feels a thread spooling between them, elastic yet taught, bringing their orbits ever closer together.

 

A moment later, Andie’s stage-whispered question snaps Rey back to attention. “Daddy, is _that_ the pretty lady?”

 

Blinking, Rey stares at the exchange and wonders how Ben will reply. If he says no, she’ll be woefully embarrassed. If he says yes, how could she believe he’s just not trying to spare her feelings? But, then again, he’s the one who’s sent her flowers nearly three days in a row, and even if the first delivery was a mistake, still… wouldn’t that mean he had _some_ interest in her? Maybe just a little? And if he says no now, it means there’s some _other_ pretty lady he’s been wooing with flowers, and just that thought alone turns Rey’s stomach sour.

 

She really needs her traitorous brain to slow down. She really needs to stop thinking altogether for a hot second.

 

Ben clears his throat and flicks his gaze between his daughter and Rey, his brows furrowing slightly as he adjusts his glasses. His dark eyes find Rey’s once again. “Yes, that’s... the one.”

 

A tremor runs through her body at his acknowledgment. Her body vibrates with a giddiness that feels like chimes tinkling in the wind, playful, musical, and just shy of wild. Rey digs her teeth into her lip and tries to hide the relieved grin tugging at her lips. _Ah_ , she thinks, _he feels it, too_.

 

Andie’s little voice reins Rey back to Earth. “Would you like to play with us?”

 

Rey smiles, glancing between Ben and his daughter. She can’t tell which of their expressions seem more hopeful.

 

“Only if I can be yellow,” she replies with a grin.

 

Closing time comes quickly, the three of them playing round after round of Candyland. Rey can’t remember the last time she played the children’s game, and frankly it’s a little boring, but Andie is so enamoured with the imaginary candy-filled world drawn in colorful display on the gameboard that it’s purely entertaining just watching the little girl.

 

Ben turns over the sign on the shop door so it reads _Closed_ and locks up, switching off the store’s lights except for those dim ones on his front window display. He shuffles back to the table where Rey is helping Andie pack up the board game, his shoulders hunched awkwardly and his hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans.

 

“So…” he begins before sliding his right hand to the bridge of his nose and adjusting his glasses. “Would it be too forward to invite you to join Andromeda and me for dinner?”

 

Rey cocks a brow at the mountain of a man before her, his shy nature completely incongruous with his commanding presence. Her heart skips a beat just glancing up, up, up at him from her spot a the low table. “Would I appear too eager if you asked and I said yes?”

 

Ben’s lips twitch, then it seems as though he loses a battle and his mouth breaks into a wide, child-like grin. His teeth are a little crooked, the lines around his mouth are deep creases serving as parentheses, like his smile is a secret gift few get the benefit of viewing. Rey feels a fluttering behind the cage of her ribs, feels a tingling low in her belly. She wants to coax that smile from him again and again. Maybe for eternity.

 

Then, with a gentlemanly flourish, Ben dips his chin and motions toward the back door. “Well, then. Let’s go, ladies.”

 

* * *

 

It’s Sunday afternoon when Rey comes home from her grocery run only to notice a large package sitting on her front porch. She parks in the garage and traipses up her walkway, her boots crunching on snow-covered ice toward her front door.

 

Once inside, she unwraps the brown parcel paper and unveils a small, foot-tall tree in a lovely ceramic pot. The tag indicates it’s a lilac, but as soon as it’s out of the shipping box, Rey doesn’t need any help identifying the plant -- its sweet, honeyed fragrance fills her nose and scents her home immediately. She also doesn’t wonder who the plant is from, despite the fact there’s no card or message with the delivery. She feels herself smile as her heart swells and her pulse quickens.

 

_Ben._

 

* * *

 

At work on Monday, Rey gets another call from Shelly at the end of the school day. She’s not even surprised when the phone rings anymore. This time, when she walks into the front office, her eyes immediately go to the end of the counter, the spot that’s become “hers” in just the last ten days since that first -- fated?-- wrong delivery.

 

Today, it’s a lovely bouquet of white roses and purple heather. It’s in a short and squat square vase, the blooms arranged in perfect symmetry, full and lush with velvety petals and lacey purple stems and no greenery to fill.

 

“That one looks like it’s for a bride,” Shelly comments, purposefully keeping her gaze down as she collates and staples some copies at her desk. Despite her lack of eye contact, Rey can see the woman’s grinning like a fool at her own observation.

 

Rey feels her neck flush, but doesn’t pay it any mind. She realizes she kinda likes the day-dreamy idea of being a bride… someday. “Does it?” she asks, sticking her nose right into the middle of the bouquet, inhaling the sweet sugar and earth scent of the roses.

 

“Mmmhmm,” Shelly mumbles. “And your mother thinks so, too.”

 

Rey stops short and stands tall again, whipping her attention back to Shelly. “My mother? Maz is here?”

 

“She was in the building all afternoon for a meeting. I think she went to your classroom to look for you,” Shelly adds with a knowing smirk.

 

Rey hasn’t mentioned to her mother all the flowers that have come since the debacle the day before Valentine’s Day. Once the issue was cleared up and she wasn’t panicking about a rampant rumor mill or losing her job, Rey hasn’t said a peep to Maz about what’s been going on.

 

Rey hasn’t mentioned how she met Ben and Andie, and how they’ve gone on a little date the three of them together, or how she’d agreed to go out to dinner with Ben tonight. Alone. And on a school night nonetheless.

 

And Rey certainly hasn’t mentioned that in little more than a week, she’s found herself gone from questioning her life choices to doodling _Rey Solo_ on the back page of her notepads like one of the moon-eyed teenagers in her classes.

 

_Nope_ , _and that’s not even counting all the flowers at home,_ Rey thinks guiltily as she grabs her bouquet and rushes back down the hall toward her classroom. She wonders idly how she’ll explain the three other bouquets perched on top of various surfaces of her room.

 

She bursts through her classroom door to find Maz, ever more diminutive as she sits in Rey’s oversized rolling desk chair, grinning knowingly, her hands folded across her stomach peacefully.

 

“There you are, child,” she says as she blinks at Rey behind her comically large and thick glasses. “And with more flowers, I see.”

 

Rey blushes as she stammers, “Yes, I… I’ve gotten some lovely deliveries from, um, some parents.”

 

“Oh, really?” Maz asks, quirking a brow above her spectacles, her little mouth puckering in surprise.

 

Walking to the front of the room, Rey sets the rose bouquet down on the corner of her desk and leans her hip against its side, glancing down at her ballet flats in shame. She could never lie to her Ma.

 

“No, not really,” Rey admits with a sigh. “I’ve kind of been… talking to someone?” she squeaks, peering over at her adoptive mother through her lashes, her chin still dipped toward her chest.

 

“And could this someone be the handsome owner of that sweet floral shop down on Main?”

 

Rey startles at Maz’s words and jerks her head upward. “How did you know?”

 

“Oh, honey,” Maz says on a laugh, shaking her head. “You think that first bouquet came to the high school by mistake?” The older woman hops down out of Rey’s chair with an energy belying her years. “The flowers came to me at the elementary and I sent them here. To you.”

 

Blinking, Rey stares down at the woman who’s been the only mother she’s ever known. And for the life of her, she can’t think of a damn thing to say other than, “What?”

 

“Well, I just thought,” Maz begins, marching herself toward the classroom door as if the words she’s saying aren’t the most critical thing Rey wants to know in the entire universe at that moment, “Mr. Solo is a very handsome… _single_ … man. And Andromeda is well-mannered and obviously being raised properly. And,” she pauses, stopping to turn to look up at her daughter over her shoulder, “I had a… well, call it a premonition.”

 

“I... you… what?” Rey shakes her head, baffled.

 

Maz cackles and starts back up toward the door, opening it and turning to deliver one final statement.

 

“I set you up, Rey,” she states bluntly, her eyes bright with mischief. “Now, go on a date with that gorgeous specimen of a man and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” she teases gleefully before letting the door latch shut with a soft _snick_ , leaving Rey with the strange sensation of being mortified and… _proud_... of her mother’s unexpected meddling.

 

* * *

 

 

“Why do you keep sending me flowers?”

 

Ben stares at Rey quietly as his neck flushes in a riot of red. He looks down at the glass of wine beside his dinner plate and wonders if this is it. If it’s over between them before anything’s really begun.

 

“Would you like me to stop?” he asks, his words barely audible.

 

A crease forms between Rey’s brows. “Honestly?”

 

“Always.”

 

She shakes her head ever so slightly. “No.”

 

Relief floods Ben like a tidal wave, crashing through him with a violence he hadn’t anticipated. It makes his hand shake as he lifts his glass and sips his Cabernet. “Okay.”

 

“But why? I mean, after the first one? It’s been over a week and I’ve gotten something almost every day.”

 

Ben sets his glass down and shakes his head, an embarrassed smile tugging at his lips. “Why does the Earth rotate around the sun?” he asks quietly, his eyes still locked on his half-finished dinner plate. “You walked into my shop that night, and you were like... gravity.”

 

He pauses when he hears the soft intake of air as Rey gasps. He reaches deep for the courage to meet her eyes, and as soon as he does, he feels a sense of calm and rightness. His next words spill from his lips with an ease he’d never expected -- not when he’s about to open his heart and let her peer inside, exposed and unprotected. Not after what he’d been through right after Andromeda was born.

 

“I’d never been more thankful for having screwed up a delivery in my life.”

 

Rey’s hand snakes across the top of the table and brushes against his knuckles. Again, an electric current travels along his wrist straight up Ben’s forearm, across his chest, and directly into his throbbing heart. He’s never felt so… alive… from another’s touch in his life.

 

“About that…”  Rey smiles at him sheepishly as she starts to tell the crazy story of what the other Ms. Kenata, Andie’s kindergarten teacher and Rey’s mother, apparently revealed to her earlier that day.

 

“So you see,” Rey finishes, “you didn’t get the delivery wrong after all. You’re just dealing with a lady who’s desperate for grandbabies or something.” Rey startles at her own words. “Oh my God, I didn’t mean… not like… shit. Shoot! I mean, _shoot_. Never mind,” she says, shaking her head and fanning her now-reddened face.

 

Ben feels his lips pull into a grin at her obvious fluster. “You know you can curse in front of me, right?”

 

Rey’s blush deepens. “I know,” she says, dipping her chin and eyeing him through her lashes. “I just,” she sighs, “I just didn’t want you to think I’d be a bad influence on Andie. I know,” she says forlornly, shaking her head, “that’s stupid.”

 

Ben swallows thickly. When he speaks, his voice is thick, too, and it takes him a moment to realize why he’s so affected. “It’s not stupid. It’s selfless.”

 

“And is it…” Rey pauses, and Ben watches her fingertip swipe condensation from her water glass, her top teeth digging into her lip as she clearly thinks over what she wants to say. Ben lets her, watching the mosaic of expressions dance across her face in the restaurant’s candlelight. “... is it wrong of me to care whether or not you might think about me influencing your daughter?”

 

Ben’s pretty sure his heart stops beating for a moment. His glasses are perfectly snug where they should be, hugging the bridge of his nose, but his nervous hand shoots up and adjusts them anyway. When he feels his heart kick in with a couple unsteady beats, he finally speaks. “No.”

 

It’s just one simple word, but it’s the truth.

 

Smiling sheepishly, Rey takes a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing as if she’d held the weight of the world upon them waiting to hear Ben’s reply. “So, is it true?”

 

Ben blinks. “Is what true?”

 

Rey grins, then purses her lips. Those dark berry lips that look like _Psychotria-Elata_ \- the latin name of a flower resembling a prostitute’s full, lush lips. Not that he thinks Rey’s a prostitute -- he would never think that! But his horticultural brain can’t help but be transfixed by her delicious pout, and his over-eager body can’t help but react to thoughts of what that mouth could do… where it could go.... His pants feel uncomfortably tight and he adjusts in his seat, thankful for the long table linens affording him a little privacy.

 

“Do all flowers have meanings?” Rey asks, clarifying her earlier question and bringing Ben back from his devolving train of thought.

 

He nods. “Traditionally, yes, and many plants and greenery, too.”

 

“You call Andie ‘sweetpea.’ Isn’t that a type of flower?”

 

“It is,” Ben says, nodding once in affirmation. “It’s a little climbing vine native to Cyprus and parts of Greece. With her name coming from Greek mythology, and her being so tiny when she was born, how she clung to me all the time... it just seemed fitting.”

 

Ben glances up to see an expression he can’t name on Rey’s countenance. Her jaw has gone soft, her eyes even softer.

 

“Does it mean something?” she asks, her voice soft now, too.

 

“Gratitude,” Ben replies. “The sweet pea stands for gratitude.”

 

She seems nervous as she asks, “Will you tell me about her? About her mother?”

 

Ben goes quiet. Doesn’t want her sympathy. “I’ll tell you, but I don’t want it to impact how you see me.”

 

Rey sighs, watching him quietly. “Ben, you know what I see? I see a man who’s running his own business, raising his daughter,” she gives him a little smile as she adds, “sweeping unsuspecting women off their feet. I can promise you, sympathy or not, I won’t see you any differently.”

 

So Ben tells her about Bazine. About his whirlwind romance with a woman he always thought was out of his league. About her unplanned pregnancy just six weeks into their relationship. About the way she cried when he asked her to marry him. How she wanted the sex of the baby to be a surprise so it was only when, after twenty hours of miserable labor leaving Ben scared shitless and watching from the sidelines lost and hopeless, that his daughter was pulled from his fiancee’s womb and handed to him to hold, a tiny squirming thing barely bigger than his two hands.

 

Ben tells Rey how three days later, after refusing to hold their daughter, Ben got back to the hospital after going to get them both lunch from her favorite take-out place, that he learned his fiancee had left the hospital without being discharged. He admits how he immediately panicked, tossing the bag of food onto the abandoned hospital bed and sprinting to the nursery, his heart in his throat, afraid he’d find his baby girl gone, too.

 

Lastly, he tells Rey how when he saw his yet unnamed infant daughter, snug and sleeping sweetly in her bassinet labelled _Baby Girl Solo,_ her rosy cheeks and pink lips soft in sleep, he’d realized keeping her safe was the only thing in his life that would matter.

 

“I knew at that moment that I’d loved Bazine, yes, but that I’d _die_ for that little girl on the other side of the glass,” Ben explained, his voice hoarse with the emotion and raw memories. “I knew that it might mean I’d be alone for the rest of my life, but at least I had purpose. A grand, mythic purpose. I named her Andromeda, for the myth and for the constellation, because nothing could be grander than that, right?”

 

Rey sniffs, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Can I ask you something? It’s probably very inappropriate, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Rey says and Ben doesn’t have to see how she tries to hide her fidgeting hands beneath the tablecloth; he can tell she’s nervous just from the tone of her voice.

 

“Okay,” he says, curious, but truly willing to tell this woman anything, to continue to bare his soul to her. To beg her to always see in him the way she described moments earlier: as a _man_ . Not a jilted fiance. Not a lonely, single dad. A man. Maybe _her_ man, even.

 

“Do you... do you think you’ll be able to love another woman again?”

 

He answers without hesitation, his eyes fixed firmly on her shiny hazel irises like they hold the answer to all the secrets of his life that he hasn’t even yet pondered.

 

“Yes.”

 

It’s just one simple word, but it’s the truth.

 

The declaration hangs between them, and Ben feels that mysterious thread pull taught once more, urging him closer, making him wish the table separating them would disappear. Rey’s right hand lifts from her lap and presses against her sternum, right in the same spot where Ben, too, feels the unmistakable tug beneath sinew and bone. Then, she gives him the softest, sweetest smile he’s ever seen.

 

They finish their meal quietly, just smiling at one another, blushing like teenagers, shy and comfortable all at the same time. Ben drives Rey home and escorts her along her icy walkway.

 

“I can come salt this for you tomorrow, if you’d like?” Ben asks as they reach her front porch, the light beside her front door casting them in a yellowish hue.

 

“I’ve got salt, Ben,” Rey says with a laugh. “I may teach physics and not chemistry, but I’ve got it covered,” she teases.

 

“Still, I’d really like to help,” Ben says, grinning. “I mean, you wouldn’t want to slip, all that _momentum_ could just send you flying…”

 

“Did you just make a physics joke to me, Mr. Solo?”

 

“I believe I did.”

 

Rey can’t help the foolish grin that tugs on her lips. “Well, if you’d really like to help, I suppose I won’t stop you.”

 

“And,” Ben starts, reaching for Rey’s hand with his, pulling her palm to cradle it against his chest. The minute their skin touches, it’s electric, just like before at the restaurant. He feels his heart stutter and thrum beneath the layers of clothes between her hand and his chest. “I’d really like to earn the chance to give you a _real_ Valentine’s gift next year, if you’d let me.”

 

Rey’s grin falters, then returns with a vengeance. Her smile is brighter than the full moon watching over them. “I’d really like you to kiss me, now, Ben Solo.”

 

* * *

 

 

It’s like the floodgates opened with that one kiss. Once their lips met, it was impossible for the two of them to stay apart any longer. Like magnets, they were pulled by an unseen force, and found themselves touching any time they were in each other’s orbit.

 

A brush of fingertips. The slide of palms, the threading of their hands. A glide of their thighs as they sit side by side. The thrilling, mesmerizing touch of their lips.

 

It’s a Tuesday, and Rey’s come to Soliloquy to visit Ben before heading home for the evening. Ben would be perfectly content to make the two bedroom upstairs apartment he shares with Andie Rey’s home, too, but he thinks maybe two months is too soon to ask?

 

He shoves the thought away as Rey’s lips press against his, his tongue snaking out to explore her taste, sweeter than honeysuckle. Ben’s fingers trace along Rey’s ribs, and he can feel her deep intake of breath as his own skin prickles with desire.

 

“Oh, Daddy! Miss Rey is here? She’s my favorite!”

 

Ben pulls away from Rey with a start, chuckling.

 

“I love how she bursts in without preamble or sense of embarrassment having caught her father making out like a teenager,” Rey murmurs in Ben’s ear just as Andie climbs up on Rey’s lap and wraps her arms around her neck for a hug, ever so much the climbing vine her nickname represents.

 

“Hey, Sweetpea,” Ben acknowledges her in greeting before giving Rey a heated glance. “Rey’s my favorite, too.”

 

Andie pulls away and eyes him with a frown. “Why didn’t you tell me she was here, Daddy?”

 

Ben’s about to answer when Rey cocks her head to the side and gives him a very exaggerated stare, her eyes challenging him with mischief. “Yes, _Daddy_ , why didn’t you tell Andie I was here?”

 

Ben tenses, surprise overtaking him at hearing Rey call him that. _Daddy_ . It’s only ever been Andromeda. But… when the word tumbles from Rey’s sugared lips, her hazel eyes burning fire, their hearts not yet settled from their heated kisses… well, then. Ben is surprised as all hell by the reaction and maybe a little bit confused, but he likes it. He likes it _a lot_.

 

“Maybe _Daddy_ wanted to keep Miss Rey all to himself,” Ben murmurs, his voice suddenly deeper, his gaze locked firmly with Rey’s as he notices her lips quirk in flattered amusement.

 

“Well,” Andie huffs, turning around to face her father and sitting squarely on Rey’s lap, “you should share, Daddy. It’s _nice_ to share.”

 

Ben smiles at his daughter as he wraps a dark tendril around his pointer finger, letting it slip off, the curl coiling and rebounding along her soft cheeks.  “I’ll remember that, Sweetpea.”

 

Andie slides off of Rey’s lap and turns to face them both. “You’ll help him remember, Miss Rey, right?” she asks, exasperated, hand on hip and as full of sass as Ben has ever seen her.

 

He laughs as Rey answers his daughter with a solemn node. “I sure will, Andie.”

 

Andie seems appeased by Rey’s vow and she darts over to the stairs, calling something out about it being time for her favorite show on PBS Kids.

 

“Will you help me remember?” Ben asks, reaching over and nudging Rey from the stool she’s sitting on until she’s facing him, her back pressed against the service counter. Ben’s large hands slide down her torso, skimming over her sweater and past the belt loops of her jeans until he’s cupping her perfectly shaped rear. With a dip of his knees, he lifts Rey and sets her atop the counter, her legs automatically making room as he slips his hips between them.

 

“Hmm,” she hums in agreement, and Ben loves how he feels her squeeze her knees against his hips, pushing him ever closer. “I do believe I will...” Rey says as she kisses him once, no more than a sweet, soft peck on his lips before her lips twitch. He watches as a playful daring colors her expression. And then she says, “... _Daddy_.”

 

_Holy shit._

 

Ben’s eyes find hers.

 

He’s at a loss. He doesn’t know why he’s reacting the way he is to her saying that, to her calling him that, but he can’t deny the way his pulse throbs. Or how his pants have grown uncomfortably tight both times she’s said it. Or how he knows with one hundred percent certainty that if he doesn’t get his hands on her body and his mouth on her lips in the next zero-point-one seconds he’ll spontaneously combust.

 

His hands slide along her jean-covered thighs and find hers. He threads their fingers together. He’ll never get over how the touch of her is still… is _always_ … electric. He fits his lips to hers and kisses her, sucking her rose-petal bottom lip into his mouth and scraping his teeth along the soft flesh, a tiny groan escaping him.

 

Rey wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him flush against her center, returning his kiss with equal passion. Her hands slide along the back of his neck and tangle in his long dark hair. His hands mirror hers and fist her brown locks in his, giving a tiny tug along her scalp. She squeaks, then moans into their kiss.

 

“Remind me to send you some lime blossoms,” he says, pulling away to calm his pounding heart and racing breath, pressing his forehead to hers.

 

“Lime blossoms?” Rey asks with a laugh. “And what do those stand for?”

 

Ben glances at her through his dark lashes, his forehead still against hers, then closes his eyes and grins. “Google it."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> But what did all the flowers mean? I *have* to know!
> 
> 1\. Dark pink roses, blue hydrangea = Gratitude, heartfelt gratitude  
> 2\. Lavender roses = Love at first sight  
> 3\. Pink, yellow, orange, purple tulips = Caring, rebirth, sunshine, truest love  
> 4\. Gardenias = Secret love (thank you, Andie!)  
> 5\. Purple lilac = First emotion of love  
> 6\. White roses, purple heather = Reverence and beauty  
> 7\. Lime blossoms = Fornication ;)
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to the coordinators of our House Dadam fic exchange! Polly and Liv, you're treasures! <3


End file.
